Yellowlocke
by Fedorasaurus
Summary: Two friends leave Unova for an internship opportunity in Kanto in this alternative re-telling of the original game. Inspired by a "Nuzlocke" playthrough of Pokemon Yellow Version.
1. Prologue: FEAR

Prologue: FEAR

I first heard of the FEAR strategy while getting drunk with a friend at Castelia's Mode Street pub. A self-proclaimed Dragon Tamer at the end of the bar had been boasting his ass off, and Aiden-this friend-he bet everyone that he could take down the guy's Class-100 dragonite with nothing but a freshly-hatched ratatta. We all threw our money in on the bet, thinking he was too much of a drunken idiot to know what he was talking about. Some of the patrons turned away to avoid witnessing the abuse of a Class-1 ratatta hatchling as it would be inevitably destroyed by the dragon. After all, Unovans are a pretty touchy people when it comes to the treatment of our non-human planetmates.

…But I kept watching.

"FEAR," it turns out, is an acronym describing the four parts of a specific battle strategy.

The Dragon Tamer told his dragonite to take it easy on the ratatta, though if using the full force of a Dragon Tail was supposed to be going easy, I'd have loathed to see the rest of its skillset. But here's the thing: after the resounding _crack _as the beast's mighty yellow tail crashed into the rodent's frail purple body, that mammalian son-of-a-bitch stood right up from the splintered floorboards, barely conscious, barely clinging to life. Hell, you could've spat on it to finish it off, but the point was it had _survived_ the first hit, and it was all thanks to the now-frayed threads littering the debris at its feet.

F – Focus Sash

Aiden found an article in a magazine once—sort of a lifehack, really, that said if you tied cords of hemp or leather together in just the right way, it would be sturdy enough to withstand a gunshot at point-blank. The article proclaimed it as a cheaper alternative to importing processed ariados silk, though it admitted to this "poor man's" method lacking the integrity of granting multiple uses. Aiden had a hobby of making these sashes, but up until this point, I didn't know what the purpose of it was. Honestly, I thought he was just trying to dress up his ratatta to make it look a little more _stylish_.

Okay, so it had survived one attack, but what could it possibly counter with that wouldn't leave it vulnerable to getting picked off by a second twitch of the draconic beast's tail?

Fearlessly, the rat pounced toward the foe dragon's shin, the nearest thing it could get ahold of, and I could tell that it was radiating some kind of desperate energy, some primal fight-or-flight maneuver only implemented by a cornered prey animal on its last legs, in an attempt to bring its foes down to its level. It struck with a force that should have been impossible under normal circumstances, but lo-and-behold, the dragonite fell hard, its enormous body crushing a few tables and sending a horde of confused drunks scrambling for the bathroom.

E – Endeavor

I'll be damned. The intoxicated bastard might have had a hope in hell after all. That is, if the dragonite didn't have such a quick recovery time. The way those massive muscles flexed, fingerlike pinions outstretched, it was going to be standing over the property damage and swinging its limbs again before ratatta's scrawny little legs could possibly pace across the floor to land a second hit.

Then again, Aiden was also a _clever_ bastard.

A – Attack. Quick-Attack.

With a burst of speed faster than our already dizzy eyes could follow, the purple bullet found a soft spot: a small open wound on the dragonite's abdomen incurred upon its initial fall through the baseboards. The dragon's proceeding roar rattled windows and shattered mugs, and then it lay still. For a few minutes we all stood there, eardrums ringing, wondering if time had stopped or if that was really it. The whole thing couldn't have lasted more than five minutes: the fastest jackpot we ever won.

R – one hell of a Ratatta.

At last, it was the bartender who was the first to move, clearing his throat as a janitorial cinccino compulsively dusted off the bar with its long, ash-gray tail tufts.

"Being that you're the big winner here, champ, I s'ppose you're gonna to be the one to _pay_ for this mess?"

* * *

After generously compensating the owner for the damages to his establishment, we still had enough winnings to pay us both a trip to Kanto for the season. We'd been eager to see the world outside of Unova since college, and at the time, Kanto was ripe with opportunity. Turns out, a scientist was seeking young interns for a new research project of his. The gig was unpaid, of course, but the ad emphasized that eligible participants would get a free monster-companion out of it.

Growing up, Aiden and I were never interested in being Trainers, but we knew a lot of people who were, and the successful ones found the Gym Challenge to be rather… lucrative. It was certainly a career path worth looking into, if we were to get free resources for it.

Like a couple of wealthy heirs to the legendary Unovan throne, we boarded the classiest cruise ship to Kanto we could get our hands on, setting off on the first route to Vermilion City before we had even sobered up from the excitement (not to mention the hard liquor).

Aiden spent the whole evening showing off his FEAR ratatta to the beautiful socialites, while I stayed in the room to muse over a map of Kanto, wondering why the hell Pallet Town, our ultimate destination, didn't have a ship port, despite being right up against the sealine. I figured the townsfolk in such rural areas weren't welcome to a lot of foreign tourism. Or perhaps most Kantoans _swam_ from island to island. I laughed aloud at the thought of a country full of gill-having fish-people, at which point I decided that a good night's rest was long overdue.

Aiden… did not sleep so easy.

He didn't talk about it in detail, but something _happened_ that night. I suspected he must have run his mouth off about his ratatta, bragged to the wrong nobleman, or maybe someone just wanted in on his battle secrets. All I know for sure is, somebody figured him out. Somebody realized that FEAR was the kind of trick that only works once, and after they overcame it, Aiden was faced with the fact that all he had was a scrawny hatchling—a Class-1 ratatta.

Aiden claimed to have given up the rest of our cash to the winner as prize money, but with the bruises on his skin and bloodstains on his jacket, I'd have been more inclined to call it a _mugging_.

An onboard vet was able to restore the ratatta's health, thank Arceus, but I can't say Aiden had a warrior's spirit after that night. Hell, I don't even think he signaled his ratatta to take on a wild flock of _pidgey fledglings_ as we hitchhiked our way from Vermilion to Pallet Town. The _great friend_ I was, I said nothing about it, for fear that he might bail on doing this internship gig with me.

The closer we got to Pallet, the quieter the world became, and the taller the grass grew in the broad, yellow-green fields. The air was so much fresher here, so incredibly clean. It made me gag (being the city kid I am). It was hard to imagine this small farming community being home to one of the most technologically-advanced laboratories on this side of the world. For a moment, I shuddered at the possibility that this could just be one big scam.

_Then again_, I thought as I carefully pushed open the door labeled "Oak Labs," _what more did we have to lose?_


	2. Chapter 1: Yellow-Bellied

Chapter 1: Yellow-Bellied

The laboratory was small and crowded, a sensory overload of droning computers, flashing lights, and a chemically-clean smell that reeked of sterility. Even the air conditioning felt abrasive against my sweat-glazed skin. A couple of researchers glanced up from their experiments and charts as I entered with what I'm sure was a dizzy, uncertain expression that just screamed _OUTSIDER_.

"Can I help you guys?" a young man with messy auburn hair inquired, his tone suggesting that he had a serious problem with Aiden and I being there. He was dressed more casually than the other scientists; his violet and black clothes were loose, and he had a sort of threatening glare in his eyes, as though we had wandered into the wrong territory. My first thought was that he must have been the security staff. The next was that we had broken some rule.

"W-We're looking for Professor Oak?" I stuttered, my words slurred by embarrassment.

"Aiden and Garnet," my friend spoke up from behind, the ratatta on his shoulder nibbling the berries he fed it, "for the internship."

Aiden sounded considerably more confident today. Maybe this was going to work out after all.

The tough guy cocked his head for a moment, then glanced over his shoulder. His right hand moved tensely over the teardrop-shaped pendant that slung low around his neck.

"All right," he sighed, "come on then."

I smirked at Aiden as we followed, leaning into his right ear to joke quietly, "Who was he _expecting_? The prince of Kalos?"

To this, Aiden snorted, and the other guy—"Baggy Jeans," as I wouldn't dare call to his face—cleared his throat over the hum of machinery. We stopped abruptly, shoes squeaking on the well-polished floor.

"Gramps, this is Aiden and Garnet, the… _interns_ you accepted?"

Again, his tone was uncertain, like he wanted his boss (grandfather?) to confirm that we should be shown straight to the door.

The man to whom he was speaking turned slowly to face us, and we found ourselves looking at a greying old fellow with an awkwardly cheerful smile that I would have identified as "senility" had his eyes not had the intense, almost solemn look of a man who has been through a long, hard road. _A man who has seen some serious shit in his day_. I would later joke with Aiden that perhaps the elderly Professor was, in fact, the most powerful Trainer in all the land.

He smiled to us with that awkward grin of his, shook our hands, then gestured his wrinkled digits to a red and white orb resting on the nearest table. I thought I was imagining it at first, but the capsule wobbled aggressively every couple of seconds.

"We recently recovered a pikachu on Route 1, just outside of town," he explained, "I found this rather strange, since these creatures aren't typically seen outside of the Viridian Forest. We think it may be an outcast of its own kind, or perhaps the abandoned pet of a local trainer, though it doesn't appear to have any sort of registration associated with it. What we _can_ determine, however, is that this particular specimen is unusually feral, and not trusting of others. It refuses to stay in a ball, and outright _rejects_ coming into contact with thunderstones."

As if on cue, the capsule on the table jerked once more, before splitting open where the two halves met, and in a flash of light a small yellow rodent appeared, red cheeks flickering like a strobe lamp as it growled and bared its short set of fangs.

Professor Oak stood stoically, unmoved by the furious beeping of equipment and glaring of warning lights as chattering employees scrambled to prevent their hardware from shorting out or going into overdrive. Baggy Jeans began barking orders, sending out what appeared to be a furry, large-eared monster about the same size as the pikachu, I suspect to take it down if things got out of hand. Something told me that this wasn't the first time something like this had happened.

"Ah, speak of the devil, and he shall appear," Oak quoted softly, shaking his head. "Aiden," he continued as researchers in rubber hazard-suits struggled to restrain the creature, "given your experience in raising pocket-monsters, I thought it might be ideal to task you with researching the best re-habilitation methods for _exceptionally_ wild creatures."

Aiden hesitated, absently scratching his rattata behind the ears. His face was white, like he had just been caught committing a terrible act. "Sir, if I may, I'm really _not_ experienced in raising monsters. I don't think that my working hands-on with the pikachu is going to do your research any good."

The Professor seemed taken aback by this comment, his mouth slightly agape. By now, the pikachu had been distracted by some nutritional treat supplements, and the wailing equipment had calmed down, as had the relieved staff. The professor turned his attention then to me, and I knew that I was about to acquire the monster-taming job, though I can't say that a rabid pikachu is what I really wanted from this "free pocket-monster" deal.

Of course I agreed, and Aiden was instead tasked with testing some new equipment that was meant to facilitate the training of captured monsters. It was something less exciting than he'd have preferred, I'm sure, but I probably shouldn't have been as surprised as I was. In retrospect, Aiden was probably still shaken from that battle on the cruise ship. He'd apparently decided that he wasn't a Trainer, just a guy who knew a few clever tricks. I didn't understand it at the time, though, when he insisted that he didn't want to work directly with monsters. Even the wildest wildlife never bothered him. In fact, he'd always been more of an animal lover than I was; that ratatta was practically his best friend.

* * *

I decided to set out early the next morning to begin a research expedition in a country I knew nothing about with a pokemon who wanted nothing to do with me, and I _sure as hell_ didn't know what I was doing.

Aiden stopped me at the edge of Pallet Town, looking as sharp as a guy could in a labcoat two sizes too large for him. A fine layer of dew had formed on the grass stems and fallen leaves, causing a quiet _squish _sound as his freshly-polished shoes paced in my general direction.

"Garnet," he huffed, fixing his short strands of hair and adjusting the position of his thick-rimmed glasses. Orange morning sunlight glared off of the smudged lenses like a pair of fireballs. He fumbled around in a leather satchel for a moment, mumbling to himself things like "where the hell is it…?" and "I'm sure I…" In the midst of his distress, his faithful ratatta emerged from the left sleeve of his coat, holding in its mouth a short strap woven tightly with multicolored threads. The ends were frayed, but overall the piece was skillfully-crafted.

"Oh yeah, thank you, Champ," Aiden acknowledged the ratatta, obtaining the sash from its tiny maw. Was this nickname new, or had I just never noticed him say it before? He presented the item to me. "Here, Garnet. I never got around to finishing this one, but I want you to have it. For good luck."

"Is this a Focus Sash?" I asked, taking the band and feeling the strange texture against my fingertips. It was more rough than it looked. Like running my fingers over the pebbles of a dry riverbed.

"Yeah, maybe it'll save your ass someday, now that you're going to do some real training. Especially with the spawn of Thunderus there."

As though it understood him, the pikachu at my side perked up its black-tipped ears, interested to hear more about this "Thunderus" we spoke of. …It was best I didn't let it in on the destructive details of Unovan folklore at this point in time, I figured.

I thanked Aiden for the gift, making a point to tie it around my right wrist to prove my sincerity.

There was a long road ahead of me, though for some reason it didn't seem so lengthy at the time. After all, the high, sloping roofs of Viridian City were within eyeshot from where we stood at the entrance to Route 1.

All I had to do was _get there_.


End file.
